As the day of the planned strike drew closer, Shenlong found himself reflecting on how far he had come. From a young cultivator dismissed as trash, he had risen to lead an alliance of clans and realms. His heart burned with a fierce resolve, knowing that this fight would determine not only his own fate but the future of countless lives.
On the eve of battle, he stood on the hill overlooking the valley where his army was camped. Warriors sharpened their weapons, tested their armor, and shared last words with friends and loved ones. He felt the weight of their hopes resting on his shoulders, and he vowed to himself that he would not let them down.
As he prepared to leave, Lin Xiu approached him, a solemn look in his eyes. "There's one more thing you should know, Shenlong. The pendant you carry… it holds the power of the lost dragon bloodline. You are not only a warrior in this battle; you are a guardian of an ancient legacy that could shift the balance of realms."
Shenlong listened, absorbing Lin Xiu's words. The responsibility felt immense, yet he knew he was ready. He was no longer just a cultivator seeking strength—he was the bearer of a legacy, one that would face the darkness head-on.
With his resolve strengthened, Shenlong returned to his tent to rest